Drayton led the way down a winding staircase, deep in the underbelly of the city hall. Stairs of smooth stone that swallowed more people than they spit back out. There were only two reasons to come down here. Prison cells, or the Oath spell. Light grew scarce as they descended and Liera had to keep close to not lose sight of the old man. The air grew stale and darkness took over before Drayton stopped. He turned around to face them.

“Listen to me carefully,” he whispered.

“Yes,” replied the ashfen, voice shaking in fear as Liera raised the blade against his throat.

“When the Oath begins, letters will appear in front of you. You will recite what is written to the best of your ability. Otherwise…”

Liera tightened her grip on the ashfen and pressed the blade further into his neck. Part of her duty was recruiting soldiers who’d be loyal to Danira. What better way to ensure loyalty than an oath and a dagger? Some would call this method ‘primitive’ and ‘barbaric’. She preferred ‘effective’.

“Y- Yes,” he stammered, “I understand.”

Purple light shone from Drayton’s aged hands and dispelled the darkness, revealing countless white eyeballs floating all around them. They twitched and squirmed madly, like a beast trying to set itself free. Drayton’s obscure chant froze the eyes in place. He held out his palm and one of the eyeballs came to rest in it. All of them locked onto him as a shadow emerged above them.

“May your life’s debt find you.” It’s voice came like a fleeting whisper, almost too soft to be audible.

Liera watched as Drayton’s hands drew bright arcs across the air and purple wisps rose from the ground. They responded to his gestures and merged together in a dizzying dance that illuminated the darkness. Letters formed out of the purple flames.

“Eyes of the Arbiter, grant us sight.” Under the threat of the blade pressed against his neck, the ashfen joined the elder in chanting.

“Take our nora, end the light.” Their voices blended together and every syllable of the otherworldly ritual they uttered nourished the darkness. Liera didn’t have an aptitude for magic, but even she could feel the sheer force of nora in the air.

“Make this oath an endless blight.” The pupils of the eyes observing them dilated and pulsed with an ominous thrum.

“I, Drayton Lindale, will act as Danira’s representative and provide you with housing and a soldier’s salary for five years,” Drayton said, then brought his hand to his mouth and swallowed the twitching eyeball. The veins around his neck bulged and darkened as it vanished down his throat.

Liera admired the man’s composure. Swearing an oath caused a unique form of agony. She had heard tales of people losing their lives to this ancient ritual. Even mages struggled when offering the large quantities of nora an oath required, yet Drayton didn’t even blink. The magic ran its course through his body and dispersed, leaving no traces behind.

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The ashfen shook in her hands, but she held him firm. The purple wisps had shifted to spell out his name, and the pledge he had to make.

“I, Verian Malent, will assume the duties of a soldier under the command of Drayton Lindale for five years. I will always act on Danira’s interest and I shall never disobey the orders of higher-ranking officers.”

Time to redeem yourself, Liera thought. She stepped back as Verian’s trembling hands reached for one of the floating eyeballs.

Having grown up as a soldier, Liera understood fear. Most of the time, she’d been tasked with handling criminals or enemies of the kingdom. Assassination was a job she loved, and a job she did well. Everyone she was sent after reacted in a unique way. Some would lose all reason and run like wild animals, while others would cling to their life and plead for mercy. Fear, she theorised, revealed everyone’s true colours. And now it was this ashfen’s turn to experience true terror.

Liera watched his composure crumble, one piece at a time. All the eyes were solely focused on him now. The nora in the air grew restless and pressed itself against the man, urging him to complete his task. With no other choice, he swallowed the eyeball. Black nora converged on him and spiralled inside his body through every orifice. Seconds later, he howled in pain and fell to his knees. Black ooze mixed with blood dribbled from his eye sockets as his nora was forcefully extracted.

The shadow spoke once more. “The arbiter’s toll has been paid.”

A scar in the shape of an eye was being carved onto Verien’s forehead, the stigma meant for those who didn’t dwell in the art of magic. His incoherent screams died down, replaced by spastic moaning as the vile ritual shattered his mind. His body jerked one final time before the black mist seeped out of his mouth, content it had syphoned everything.

“This should suffice,” Drayton said. “Shame he couldn't make it.” His voice distracted Liera from the spectacle. “I’ll have Mina leave his body in the forest. If he’s lucky, the wolves will have gotten to it by nightfall.”

“Why not just bury it?” She scoffed. “Bastards like him are undeserving of death in the open air.”

“I’ve said it many a time, Liera.” Drayton sighed, then knelt down next to the body and crossed its arms over his chest. “It is the gift of life we honour. Not the one who lost it.”

“I understand…” She did, but she didn’t like it. “Would you like me to help?”

“No, you’ve done enough. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you.” Liera bowed and left. She climbed back up the stairs until chilly, winter air filled her lungs in the city hall above. Seeing the ashfen brought to justice had been delightful, but she still had a bitter taste in her mouth. She looked up at the moon and sighed. The search for Rane had to be delayed until the traitor was found. Besides, they didn’t have any leads to continue pursuing Leylin. Not that she’d ever admit it to Blake, but she was starting to lose hope that they’d ever find the man. She took one last glance at the city hall and left for her quarters.

Thoughts tortured her between the dark alleys and the empty streets of Danira, where there was no one to help her forget. She pressed her foot down on each step, channelling the anger. Her entire life, she’d trained. She knew how to take lives silently, how to be faster than the mages she might face. From all the soldiers in her generation, she was without a doubt the best. Tutors and veterans who’d seen her fight had agreed. Then why? Why was she scared of the upcoming conflict and the war? Liera caught herself trembling as she closed the door and got angry at herself for it. Each time she buried and suppressed that fear, it came back stronger and with a vengeance. And each time, she hated herself more for it. She’d worked to the point of bleeding to forget her past self. To not be the little girl who saw her city in flames. Who saw her friends bleed out on the dirt. Yet the feeling of being powerless and afraid crept up on her all the same.

Her eyes drifted to Blake, already deep in slumber. She needed to grow stronger still, to protect him. There was only so much to be gained from weapons and combat techniques. With a tired huff, she let herself collapse onto the bed and closed her eyes. Now she just had to figure out how. Perhaps the first step would be a good night’s sleep.